


Hold My Hand And I'll Be There

by Iolre



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Homophobia, Homophobic Slurs, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Unilock, sexual identity crisis, sexuality denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 17:17:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1518794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolre/pseuds/Iolre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was Thursday. A day John had been dreading for a long time.</p><p>“Are you sure, love?” John stood as his boyfriend came and wrapped his arms around him, drew him close, held him. Greg sounded concerned. Caring. John soaked it up. “You don’t have to.”</p><p>He slid his arms around Greg, took a deep breath, and nodded. “I want to.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold My Hand And I'll Be There

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This was written for my lovely lovely beta/internet wifey [Dreig](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreig) for her birthday. :D Happy birthday, lovely.

It was Thursday. A day John had been dreading for a long time.

“Are you sure, love?” John stood as his boyfriend came and wrapped his arms around him, drew him close, held him. Greg sounded concerned. Caring. John soaked it up. “You don’t have to.”

He slid his arms around Greg, took a deep breath, and nodded. “I want to.”

_“I forbid you from bringing another woman home!” Dad snapped, pointing his finger accusingly at Harry. “I won’t have you being some goddamn poof.”_

_“You can’t stop me!” Fifteen-year-old Harry shouted back, bristling. Mum stood to the side, her hands covering her face. She was ashamed, she was crying, and John didn’t know why._

John stepped into his new home, into Greg’s home, into their home. It felt like he was like crossing a threshold. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he let it out. Greg’s hand was on his back, guiding him, providing comfort. Instinctively John leaned closer to his boyfriend as Greg showed him around. He had been there many times before - he slept at Greg’s often - but this time, it was different.

This time it was for him.

_“You’re going to hell,” Dad told Harry. His eyes were dark. He had been drinking. John could see the bottles, could smell the alcohol that permeated the room. “I don’t want you in this home. I don’t want to hear your voice. You’re no child of mine.” He seemed to grow bigger, more imposing. “Get out.”_

John slid his hand into Greg’s, twined their fingers together. He was silent, but Greg said nothing, and that was something John appreciated. Greg’s roommate, Sherlock, and his boyfriend Victor were gone for the day down at the Holmes estate, so it was quiet and peaceful. “I got a new duvet,” Greg said proudly, leading John into the bedroom.

“You didn’t have to,” John said, his voice sounding far too loud in the quiet flat. The duvet was a deep blue, with criss-crossing patterns that looked almost like an artist’s crosshatching. It was an improvement upon Greg’s old one, a dark brown thing that was starting to wear in places.

Greg pulled him close and kissed his head. John allowed himself to relax, to lean into Greg. It was just the two of them, there was no one else around. Everything was okay. “You’re moving in with me,” Greg told him. “Besides, I kicked a hole in the old one.”

John huffed out a laugh. “So it was convenient, then.”

Greg grinned. “I call it perfect timing.”

_Harry left, and didn’t look back. “Don’t turn out like her,” Dad told him, a bottle in his hand. “You’re a good son. You won’t be a fucking poof.” His face turned ugly with disgust. John nodded mutely and went back to his room and back to his coursework. He didn’t know how to feel. Didn’t know what to think. Sure, he thought girls were pretty, all soft curves and warm bodies, but there was something about the way men looked and the way they moved that was attractive in its own right._

“Tea?” Greg asked, craning his head to look down at the shorter man. John rolled his eyes as Greg exaggerated the height difference.

“Please,” he said. The two walked down into the small kitchen together, and John sat at the table. He watched as Greg filled the kettle and turned it on, as he pulled down two mugs and placed tea bags in them. There was an easy grace to his movements, an elegance that never failed to capture John’s attention. Greg turned around and smiled at him, his eyes warm. John swallowed.

_He was fourteen, the first time he kissed a boy. It left him feeling sick inside. Guilty. Shameful. Was it wrong, what he was doing? His Dad had said it was. John had heard so many times how Harry had torn the family apart, how Harry was the cause of all of their problems. All he knew was that he wanted to be a good son and wanted to make his father happy. He couldn’t kiss boys, not anymore._

_So he focused on girls. Dated who he was supposed to. If he found another man attractive - well, that was a problem he could take care of at home. Silently. Privately. Without anyone finding out._

Greg walked over and squeezed his shoulder. John was shaking so hard he could barely hold the mug that Greg passed him. When Greg stood next to him, an arm around his shoulder, John turned and hid his face in Greg’s stomach. The clock was ticking steadily in the background, and every indication of time passing sent waves of anxiety through him. He felt like he was going to be sick.

_John was able to go away for University, far enough away that he wasn’t obligated to go home whenever his parents wanted him. He perfected his excuses - too much coursework, he was going on a date, or he needed to study. His parents were so proud of him for getting accepted for a medical degree. He was going to be a doctor._

_One of the advantages of being so far away from family was being able to do what he wanted without fear of them finding out. He kissed more boys. Even tumbled into bed with one or two. Decided he was gay, because that was all you could be, one or the other. Straight or gay. He had never heard of being both. To him, it was that black and white._

“Where’s my bag?” John asked finally. Greg stepped back, looked around.

“Did you leave it by the door?” He left the kitchen. For a moment John panicked, wanted to follow, but instead he sat still and sipped his tea. It was some type of herbal tea, deliberately soothing, but he still felt restless. Greg came back into the kitchen with it in his hand, a triumphant grin on his face. “Want a drop?” He was already digging into the appropriate pouch, offering the wrapped remedy to John.

Mutely John opened it and slid the drop into his mouth. He didn’t have to say anything, for Greg stepped closer, allowed John to hold him and lean into him. “It’ll be okay,” Greg murmured, stroking a hand through John’s short hair.

John nodded against him. “I know,” he said finally. Greg hugged him.

_He was at a pub one night with friends from his course the first time he saw Greg. The LGBTQ society was hosting a quiz night, and Greg had volunteered to be in charge. John’s mates had found it a good challenge and Greg had drawn them in, integrating him and his friends into the already existing teams._

_It wasn’t a coincidence that he ended up at the table closest to Greg. He wasn’t imagining it when Greg flirted with him the entire evening, although John didn’t work up the courage to flirt back. His sexuality wasn’t something he was open about. He kept it hidden, away from public view. Even though he was far away, he didn’t want it to get back to his family, somehow. He was paranoid._

John curled up next to Greg on the sofa, glaring at him he felt the remote on his back. “I’m not a table,” he informed Greg curtly.

“You’re too short to be a table,” Greg replied, a grin on his face. John scowled, mock-offended, and slid a hand up Greg’s side in a deliberate, tickling motion. Greg inhaled sharply, biting his lower lip. For a second John feared that Greg had bitten through the skin. “You bastard,” Greg huffed. The remote was tossed aside, and Greg rolled John onto the floor, tickling back.

_John had found Greg’s number in his bag the next morning. It had been three more days before he had gotten up the courage to call him. Four more before they met for coffee. They just chatted, at first. John was too tense about being in public with someone openly gay. He could hear his father’s voice, running through his head. The things he had shouted, the things he had said. How Harry had never come home._

_Three months later they kissed for the first time._

Finally they had settled back on the sofa, both breathless from their romp on the floor. Sherlock and Victor had came home to John straddling Greg and mercilessly tickling his ribs. The taller boy had simply rolled his eyes and stomped up to his room. Victor had followed more sedately, winking at them before shutting Sherlock’s door behind them. John looked at Greg, mildly mortified, only to see a wide, open smile on Greg’s face.

_It was Greg who had suggested that John might not be gay, about a week later. John had been offended at first - of course he was gay, what else would be? He slept with men, liked men, preferred men. Greg was gay, and John was with Greg. To John it was as simple as that. To Greg, it wasn’t._

_They had stayed up late that night talking, curled up in Greg’s bed. John had never heard of bisexuality, or pansexuality, or anything else Greg told him. By the end of it, he had a new word for himself. It felt weird on his tongue, calling himself pansexual, but it fit. He liked it. Somehow, still liking women helped banish a little bit of the shame he felt for falling in love with Greg. He hated that it did._

John leaned down, burying his face in Greg’s neck. Greg was happy, Greg loved him. There was no shame in that. “Do we have time for a movie?” Greg asked, stroking John’s back. John lifted his head, looked at the clock.

“Yeah, we do.” John stood and together they settled again on the sofa. This time they were quiet, the only noise coming from the TV. John didn’t really care what Greg put on. He wasn’t paying attention. His stomach was tying itself into knots, and the only thing that kept him from coming completely undone was Greg warm against him, kissing his hair, stroking his back. Greg was safety, to John. Warmth and security. Protection.

_“I want you to meet my parents.” John swallowed as he said the words, fear warring with anxiety to tip him over the edge first. It had been two years since John had started dating Greg. It was time._

_Greg’s eyes widened. He knew of Harry, knew what had happened. “They don’t - know, do they?”_

_John looked away. Looked guilty, ashamed. “No.”_

_“Are you sure?” Greg asked, stepping closer._

_John hated himself at that moment. Hated how he wanted to say no, how he wanted to run away, and never tell his parents about Greg. But that wasn’t fair to Greg. John had met his parents, and now it was only fair to be the other way around. “I want to tell them,” he told the ground. His hands balled into fists. He knew what he wanted to say, what he needed to say, but he couldn’t make the words pass his lips._

_“I’ll come with you.” Greg stepped forward and leaned down, kissed John’s forehead and wrapped his arms around him._

_John held onto Greg like he was his lifeline, and in a way, he was. “They want me to come to dinner.”_

_“When?” Greg allowed John to pull back, but he didn’t let go. He steadied him, held him, supported him. Like he always did. Like he always would._

_“Thursday.” John tried to smile and failed. He felt like the world was going to end._

“It’s time to go, love,” Greg murmured into his ear, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Ready to go?”

“No,” John said honestly, standing. Sometime during the movie he had managed to drift off, fall asleep - something he considered rather miraculous. He had barely slept at all last night, knowing what was coming.

Greg stood up, rolling his shoulders and cracking his back. He slid his mobile and wallet into his pockets before handing John his. John stared at them for a moment, swallowed, and tucked them into his jeans. “It’ll be okay,” Greg said softly. He leaned forward, pressed a gentle kiss to John’s lips. “I’ll be there. We’ll be together. You’re not facing them alone.”

John managed a shaky smile. He felt like his heart was going to explode with how much he loved his boyfriend. “Right.” His throat felt as dry as sandpaper. “Shall we be going?”

Greg stepped closer and kissed him, slowly and sweetly. For a moment, John lost himself in the kiss, in the way Greg moved against him. It was familiar, and pleasant, and John could forget about all that was coming. They broke apart, and Greg pressed his lips to John’s forehead. “Let’s go.” John nodded. They linked hands as they left the flat, ready to face whatever awaited them - together.


End file.
